Unlikely
by Cazuki
Summary: Kiyotaka Ishimaru has an esteemed but dead-end job and is becoming slowly cynical about his prospects in life. That is, until Mondo Oowada changes all that one night when he meets Ishimaru in a bar. Note: This currently more a proof of concept than a finished piece, so please tell me if you want more! Song-fic.


**Hiya guys! So, this might not be what you were expecting out of an update, but I found this old story idea that I started 2 years ago on a road-trip in America and I wanted to complete it and put it up. This is based on the song '22' by Lily Allen which I was listening to at the time. I hope you guy like it and please tell me if yu think I should continue it down in the comments below!**

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The bar wasn't anything special, really. In fact, it wasn't any different from a bog-standard watering-holes of any city in the world. The bar was small, cramped and humid with the moist heat of the Summer air. Clichéd pictures of half-empty beer bottles and the drunk faces of previous infamous clients, some unfortunately deceased, were pinned to the walls, obscured by the darkness the dim lighting just couldn't pierce. If Ishimaru was a safety officer, he knew he wouldn't even get past the front door before shutting the place down for good. The building was old, supposedly built in the 60's, and it definitely showed its age. At least a third of the wooden planks that lined the floor weren't fixed down properly, loose nails sticking jaggedly where they'd been ripped up from frequent brawls. The walls were stained by pipe leakage and oddly coloured stains he knew it would be wise not to question. The only thing that could be said to be decent in the whole establishment was the bar itself, covered in a deep oak lacquer and polished to an almost mirror-like shine.

It was on this bar that Ishimaru examined himself, straightening his tie and suit jacket. It'd been a tiring day at the office but he couldn't afford to look sloppy, even now. Today was his sixth-year anniversary after all. Six years since he'd left a top University, with the highest honours and more job opportunities than many people would get in their lifetimes. Six years since he'd accepted the job of being the personal assistant to one of the most well-known politicians in the country to continue his learning. Six years…

He sighed, fiddling with his tie again.

The bartender, wiping some glasses with a dry cloth, turned to Ishimaru, flashing him a courteous smile.

"What's up, Ishi? Job getting you down?"

Ishimaru twitched, cursing himself internally. He kept his voice light, hoping it made him sound happier than he actually was.

"You don't need to worry about me Kazutaka!" He raised his head, flashing one of his practiced smiles. "It's nothing! I'm just… tired…" Ishimaru felt the smile wobble so, to politely stop further questioning, he grabbed his glass of incredibly expensive… _something_ – he didn't remember what exactly he'd ordered - and took a sip, letting the burning sensation calm his frayed nerves.

He'd been coming here for about three years now. Despite the wear, tear and overall health hazard the bar was quiet and private. Kazutaka was a professional and not too chatty. Over the years he'd become a friend of a sort, reserving seats for him and making him drinks before he'd even asked. In return, he was one of the few allowed to call him 'Ishi', a ridiculous nickname that Ishimaru would rather avoid.

"Nothing?" Ishimaru heard more than saw the bartender tilt his head, staring at him with a raised brow that was his customary expression. "Come on, Ishi! I know you only try to get drunk when something bad's happened." Ishimaru pursed his lips, taking another swig from the glass. He dimly noted that he'd have to buy a new glass soon. "Come on," Takada continued "your black aura's upsetting the other customers."

Ishimaru couldn't help but smirk at that.

"May I remind you," he swung his arm out around the rest of the large room, "you barely have any customers other than me?"

It was true. At the moment only one other person sat in the establishment; a person in a non-descript black jacket who was nursing a small glass of some sort of cocktail while keeping their face turned into the shadow. As if his gesture had been a signal, the person got up, leaving whatever remained of their drink behind as they shuffled off towards the back of the bar and a downright putrid set of lavatories. The bar was sparsely populated at best on most nights, due to a combination of inaccessibility and the other clientele. The bar was home to every kind of trouble maker under the sun, from drug dealers, to gang members, to Yakuza. The bar worked on a strict 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy and Ishimaru knew more stuff went on here than just polite social conversation and drinking.

If he'd been younger, he probably would have lost his mind, running to the closest police officer or complaining to some local committee or other. But, surprisingly, it didn't bother him. In fact, it was liberating in a way. Him, a well-paid government worker, drinking with the deemed sediment of society. It was thrilling in a way, knowing that if these people figured out who he was, they would probably put his head on a pike sooner than try and deceive him with sugared words as so many of his so-called-colleagues did. Of course, if his boss knew he came here, he'd be handed the pink slip faster than a speeding bullet, so he kept this side of his life private. A man was allowed his secrets, right?

Ishimaru didn't hate his job. He loved it, really he did. He was massively thankful for the chance he'd been given to learn the ropes of government from a well-recognized and influential politician – six years ago. It's been six years and despite all his hard work, all the overtime without pay and all the speech preparation that went off without hitch he was still twiddling his thumbs as a PA, no closer to his dream than he had been at 22. It frustrated him and that's one reason he came here. In these walls, worldly connections didn't count for pocket change, all you had to have was a tight lip and a manly spirit. Of course, the other customers scared a lot of people away, but Ishimaru prided himself on being able to keep a clear head and a low profile. 'Keep Quiet and no-one gets hurt', was his policy, and so far it'd worked.

Until now.

 _BANG! BANG!_

A heavy fist hit the front door, echoing throughout the otherwise silent bar. A voice followed.

"HEY! Anyone in there!?" The voice came through loud and clear, the thin door doing little to muffle the gruff male voice that called from outside. Kazutaka responded without even looking up from the glass he was polishing.

"Look at the sign, Oowada…"

Ishimaru didn't need to think hard to recall what he was referring to. To the side of the front door was a clear sign, printed with the easily understandable words 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell.' For anyone who'd ventured into the bar more than once, they quickly learned that those words meant a lot more than just keeping secrets. Ishimaru might have smiled, if the banging hadn't just intensified, so loud now that he was honestly surprised the door could withstand it. The door was unlocked, so why would someone, especially a regular, just bash on the door like a cave-man? There was rudeness and then there was stupidity, Ishimaru thought, taking another si-

 _CRASH!_

Ishimaru jumped, spilling the rest of his drink down his shirt. _Fuc-!_ No, no. There was no need to lose his patience. He took a deep, steadying breath and glanced over to see the front door pressed against the adjacent wall and a broad, looming silhouette in the doorway. It didn't take long for Ishimaru to recognize the leader of the most infamous biker gang in the city, Mondo Oowada. He'd seen him here quite a few times over the years, sometimes with his gang mates, other times alone. He couldn't say that he liked him. He was too loud, too brash, too-

"You guys need to get the fuck out of here! NOW!" – _that_. Oowada stomped past the threshold, becoming slightly more distinct in the light. Light drops of water fell down from his angular face, styled pompadour and long black jacket inscribed with the characters for his gang 'The Crazy Diamonds'. It was raining outside so of course the man would be soaked through. Oowada had always been a rude man, always up for a fight and never one to act subtly, but right now he looked completely wild, irises dilated and frame shaking with pent-up energy. Despite his best judgement, Ishimaru was… _disconcerted_. He'd seen people act like this before, but never towards him.

"Breath Mondo!" Kazutaka spit out the words, probably already calculating the cost of repairing the door. "What the hell happened?" Oowada rounded on the bartender, his deep frown setting into a toothy snarl.

"I ain't got time for your stupid fuckin' twenty questions old man!" Kazutaka just stared back at Oowada, facing him down with the sort of stern silence even a Prime Minster would envy. Oowada growled, clawing a large hand through his blond hair. "FINE!" He took a deep breath, seemingly using all his might to calm himself into speaking with an even tone. "Did some prick in black come in here recently?"

"…And what if they did?" Kazutaka was still thoroughly unimpressed, though Ishimaru didn't miss how his mouth had downturned and his eyebrows knit together. Ishimaru felt his whole body tense as the intense auras of the two men battled it out around him. Something was definitely not right here. Oowada sighed again.

"LOOK! It doesn't matter _why_ they came in here! All that matters is that if you want to keep your sorry, stingy ass _alive_ you and _prim and pretty_ here need to leave, _now_!"

Ishimaru jolted at the insult, gritting his teeth.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice low, "but I think you've caused enough trouble already. Why should we believe anything that you say?"

And then it happened. A small, innocuous sound.

 _Tick._

Everyone froze. It was like they were waiting for a punch-line. It came in the form of one tick, then another and another. They were quiet, but in the absolute silence of the air around them the small sounds of clock cogs turning sounded like bolts of thunder.

 _Tick._

 _Tick._

 _Tick._

Kazutaka was the first to act, swinging himself with surprising agility over the bar and next to Ishimaru. He looked focused, keen. For some reason, that scared Ishimaru more than if he'd been panicking. He squeezed Ishimaru's shoulder _hard_ , tugging him forcefully from his stool and throwing him towards the front door and into Oowada's hard chest. They both grunted, surprised at the sudden proximity. Oowada smelt like oil and fumes and rain.

"Get out of here." Kazutaka grabbed a coat from a nearby hook, throwing it on before he ran past the two of them. Just as he was about to clear the threshold, he turned back, staring sympathetically into Ishimaru's terrified eyes before looking at Oowada. "Make sure he gets out of here. He's not here to deal with your guys' shit so get him out and then leave him out, alright?"

There was a moment. A moment where time stood still. What was Kazutaka thinking, leaving him in the hands of a ruthless man like Mondo Oowada!? He wouldn't trust him with a goldfish, let alone a human life! And they'd never even introduced themselves to each other before! They-

"I will. It's a man's promise." Ishimaru looked up from Oowada's chest. He'd rarely ever seen anyone, especially someone like Oowada with such a determined expression, dark eyes clear and jaw set tight and strong. Ishimaru didn't have time to process the change as the ticking suddenly increased in both volume and speed, clearly distinguishable from the rain outside.

"Good. And make sure to pay me for the repairs!"

"Pfft!" Oowada's chest vibrated with his deep laughter. "Always looking to save a buck, huh, old man?"

"I need to! Looking after you dumb-shits gives my bank account an hold bigger than a well-used whore!" Without another word, Kazutaka ran off into the night, leaving Oowada and Ishimaru alone.

For the first time, Ishimaru realized just how _close_ he was to the other man. He flushed, attempting to push away. Instead, he felt long, strong arms encircle him, pulling him closer. Ishimaru started spluttering, mind shutting with everything that was happening around him. It took him a few moments to realize Oowada was speaking to him.

"-ey. Hey, com'on! _HEY_! Are you gonna start moving your fuckin' legs or what!?" Ishimaru wanted to respond coherently, arguing his case or even just berating the biker. Instead, all the came out was a dumb slur of words. Oowada growled above him, his chest vibrating again. " _Fuck_!"

And suddenly Ishimaru's feet had left the floor and he was being slung onto Oowada's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Without giving him time to protest, the biker turned and ran out the front door, sending them both into the rain and ruining what was left of the good condition of Ishimaru's suit. As soon as the cold water pelted his face, Ishimaru gained he sense that whatever was happening he certainly did not want to be involved with, at all! He started banging on Oowada's back, hoping the biker would let him go if he hit hard enough. But apart from a few grunts and swears, the man didn't budge, continuing to trudge on through the back-alleys and into an off-road. The streets were basically abandoned, only stray cats and dogs occupying the small gaps between buildings.

Ishimaru didn't see the motorbike until he was literally slammed onto it, forced to look up at Oowada, who fiddled around with the leaning mechanism, his foot slipping in the rain.

It was then that Ishimaru found his voice.

"What in the name of all that is _good_ are you doing!?" Oowada kicked off the brake, getting onto the bike in front of Ishimaru and grabbing the handle-bars.

"Saving your scawny ass. Now hold on." Ishmaru wanted to shout more, but the wind was knocked out of him as the bike lurched into gear, tearing away from the alley and bringing Ishimaru with it. Instinctually, Ishimaru wrapped his arms around Mondo, pulling himself close to his back to stop himself sliding off the wet seat.

Ishimaru's entire world was going upside down and back-to-front. Or maybe that was just his stomach? It didn't matter because before he could say anything else, he was deafened by a huge explosion from behind them. Keeping his grip, Ishimaru looked back to see the space behind them was now a fireball, smoke rising high into the night sky as the flames roared. Ishimaru was shocked into silence, which was becoming a disconcertingly regular occurrence. It had been a bomb. He could have died.

He turned back to Oowada's chest, letting the thoughts swirl around his head. Shock, confusion and relief set in all at once, leaving him silent as he tried to stop the ringing in his ears. He didn't even notice when they'd cleared the neighbourhood and later the city limits, riding out into open road and country. He kept still though it all, simply thinking this one thing.

 _My life is already over._


End file.
